before
how ridiculously inadequate they were--just little bits of baby feet,
even in her thick walking-boots. She certainly knew how to dress--and
adapt herself to the customs of a country. Her short, serge frock and
astrakhan coat and cap were just the things for the occasion; and she
looked so attractive and chic, with her hands in her monster muff, he
began to have that pain again of longing for her, so he said icily:

"The sky is gray and horrid. You must not judge of things as you will
see them to-day; it is all really rather nice in the summer."

"I am sure it is," she answered meekly, and then could not think of
anything else to say, so they walked on in silence through the courtyard
and round under a deep, arched doorway in the Norman wall to the
southern side of the Adam erection, with its pillars making the
centerpiece. The beautiful garden stretched in front of them. This
particular part was said to have been laid out from plans of Le Notre,
brought there by that French Lady Tancred who had been the friend of
Louis XIV. There were traces of her all over the house--Zara found
afterwards. It was a most splendid and stately scene even in the dull
November gloom, with the groups of statuary, and the _tapis vert_, and
the general look of Versailles. The vista was immense. She could see far
beyond, down an incline, through a long clearing in the park, far away
to the tower of Wrayth church.

"How beautiful it all is!" she said, with bated breath, and clasped her
hands in her muff. "And how wonderful to have the knowledge that your
family has been here always, and these splendid things are their
creation. I understand that you must be a very proud man."

This was almost the longest speech he had ever heard her make, in
ordinary conversation--the first one that contained any of her thoughts.
He looked at her startled for a moment, but his resolutions of the night
before and his mood of suspicion caused him to remain unmoved. He was
numb with the pain of being melted one moment with hope and frozen again
the next; it had come to a pass now that he would not let himself
respond. She could almost have been as gracious as she pleased, out in
this cold, damp air, and he would have remained aloof.

"Yes, I suppose I am a proud man," he said, "but it is not much good to
me; one becomes a cynic, as one grows older."

Then with casual indifference he began to explain to her all about the
gardens and their dates, as the